Heal These Wounds
by tomhiddlest0ner
Summary: Rick Grimes thought the last person to stumble across the prison would be his ex-deputy, Abigail McCann. But when the woman who was once his best friend returns in a time of need for the officer, can he heal his broken heart after the death of his wife, or will the prison become too much? Rick/OC
1. Hello Again

**CHAPTER ONE:**

**HELLO AGAIN**

* * *

The warm, Atlantic afternoon sun beat down mercilessly on the large farmlands located just out of the city, wide-spread and green despite all the heat that the USA had been copping lately. Herschel Greene's farm stretched for miles along the seemingly deserted area, stopping short when the trees smacked the side of his furthest paddock. For the small family and group of ragtag survivors, the forest was almost untouchable, a place where danger and Death lurked hand in hand, waiting for another kill, something to quench the seething hunger in their bellies. However, for Abigail McCann, the forest was a place of piece – and a place where she could let off some steam.

Abigail McCann was a woman of average height with long, tanned legs and a face dotted with light, sun-kissed freckles. Her eyes were wide and still, surprisingly, filled with the zest that she'd had when her friends and family had been alive. Perhaps it was the danger that kept Abby's baby blue's shining, for the sheriff did love a good exciting run for food or a hunt that pumped adrenaline through her veins. Her hair was dirty blonde, long and kept as clean as she could manage with their lack of hair treatments – for someone fighting the un-dead, Abby still kept pride in maintaining herself. She was a woman of pride, after all, spending as much time as she could killing the un-dead – what she liked to call Vicks, short for Victims.

Herschel's farm was quite possibly the woman's favourite place in the world. Abby adored sitting on the roof of the barn (the one that wasn't filled to the brim with Vicks) with Shawn and occasionally, Beth and Maggie, to watch the sunset each night before Herschel called the lot of them in for dinner. Otis would sometimes bring Abby's dinner outside for her, knowing that she just needed her space. It was hard for everyone, of course, being out here all alone and having nobody from their past lives, but nobody seemed to take the hit like Abigail. She had herself together, but it wasn't unusual for her to fall apart at the drop of a hat.

That morning, the woman stood in the horse's shed, brushing Barnaby's coat affectionately. She loved Herschel's horses and quite often took them for rides around the grounds, the temptation to head into the forest itching her skin and stealing her mind for a split second before she reeled either Barnaby or Dante 'round and headed back toward the barns. She smiled softly, her pink lips cracked from the warmth of the sun. "You love the attention," she cooed, the horse giving a soft whinny in response, as though it could understand her. Abby chuckled, opening her mouth before another voice stole the silence.

"What are you doin' in here, Abby?"

Herschel. Abby bit down on her lip and slid her hand from the leather handle of the thick brush, playing with the thing as she turned, finding herself eye-to-eye with the stubble-coated farmer. "Hey there, Herschel," she greeted, feigning an over-the-top grin. "I was just tending to Barnaby, y'know, the usual," Abby added after her greeting, placing the hairbrush in a small box of care-items for the horses as she stepped out of the stable. Herschel looked somewhat forlorn.

"You know it ain't healthy, being along with these horses all day," he murmured disapprovingly, and Abigail was suddenly reminded of her father. He'd have said the same thing, _tsk_ing at her and shaking his head. But, Abigail couldn't exactly argue this man's judgement. He and his family had saved her when the disease broke out, stealing minds and bodies and turning people into feeding machines. She'd been wandering through the forest when she'd stumbled and been targeted by a walker – Otis had saved her ass, out on his hunt, luckily for her. Herschel stitched her wounds, fixed her. He was good at that, but nothing could heal her heart.

"I'm fine, Herschel," the blonde promised, though her voice was unconvincing. Herschel knew her; he knew what she was like. It had been months since they'd found her and through each panic attack, every hallucination and every break down, he'd been there. As had the others, and Abby was somewhat ashamed. At twenty-five, she still couldn't control her own emotions. "I just had... a blast from the past, I guess. Something I didn't need." She tried for a laugh, but Herschel just looked on with pity at the blonde.

"You don't talk about your past much here, Abby," the old man pointed out, and for a moment, the blonde thought that Herschel might be about to force her to spill, to let her memories drip from her lips as she cried over friends who's voices remained crammed in her head, reminding her each and every night of who she'd lost. "I thought it would be good for you to get some of that pent-up anger out, you know?" Herschel offered, and Abigail shook her head.

"No, Herschel, it's not a good idea," the blonde answered, firm and assertive. She wouldn't tell him, because if she did, the memories wouldn't be just hers anymore and eventually, they'd fade from her mind. She didn't want that, she wanted to be alone. "I think..." she took a breath, before looking down at her hands, slender fingers knitting together. "I think I'm gonna go, y'know? Try and make it on my own out there. I'm no use to you all anymore, and I want to see if I can find others."

The last part was a lie; Abigail would not be looking for others. Others had a habit of finding her, though. Herschel remained quiet for a moment, but he nodded. He was not one to stop a wounded bird flying, despite how badly the bird's wing was injured. Abigail was a free woman, she could do what she pleased – it just hurt the old man to see her go, in all honesty. They'd become almost friends in the time since she'd arrived at his farm, broken and battered. He wondered if she'd survived, and, unknowing to how bad the outside was, made a bet with himself that she would.

"If you're sure," he said after a moment, almost sounding indifferent though both he and Abby knew he certainly was not. She nodded sternly.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

In reality, Abigail had left Hershel and his family because it was too painful. There were memories, of the men she'd been on the force with, of her family, of the first few days at the farm. Rick Grimes frequented her hallucinations and her nightmares, as did Shane Walsh and her mother, an uptight woman who ran Abigail's life because she cared. Abigail sighed as she made her way away from the farm atop Barnaby's back, the wind taunting her hair and sending chills crawling over her skin. She wouldn't stop now, and she would not look back at Herschel Greene and his farm of safety.

* * *

**_Nine months later..._**

Sometimes, Abigail still thought about Herschel Greene and his family and friends – those who were on the farm, rosy cheeked and blind to the truth of what was past those wired fences of Herschel's paddocks. The goodbye had been fast, for the blonde hadn't wanted it to drag on so much that she'd change her mind. He'd given the woman Barnaby, the stunning black horse that she'd spent so much time in the barn with and – lonely as ever – the woman had also acquired a puppy. She had found the scrap of fluff crying beside a dead mother, the rest of the litter seemingly vanished into thin air though Abigail had a good idea regarding what had happened to them.

Over winter, Barnaby died. He was too large a horse for Abigail to be able to feed and she'd cried her tiny, shattered heart out beside the campfire as quiet as possible, Zeus, by her side and whimpering. He was the dog she'd found, a gorgeous, thick-coated Siberian husky. The three of them, up until Barnaby's death, had lived day-to-day in the forest, Abby's pack weighed down with many weapons, cans of food and water bottles. The majority of the latter were empty, Abby didn't quiet trust the stream water that flowed through the forest though she occasionally took the desperate gulp. It had seemed that all she'd seen since leaving Herschel's were dead people, highways and an endless amount of forestry. She didn't mind, though. In fact, she preferred it.

Yawning, the blonde woman was too tired to notice that the forest was rapidly thinning around her until the trees stopped altogether and she was faced with a small decline, a wide stream flowing at the bottom of the small hill. Blue eyes scanning the scene before her, she'd realised that she'd stumble across... a prison? The fences were plenty and sky high, topped with barb wire though the first lot looked about ready to topple over with a good amount of weight pressed against them. Perhaps she could get in, find herself a bed and some food and wait out the world's death. Then again, it could be filled with Vicks, too. She glanced down at Zeus, who seemingly had the same question on mind. _What can we do?_

There were a few Vicks surrounding the main gate, clawing at the metal though Abigail couldn't imagine why. There was almost no movement inside, and the rest of the Vicks in the area had navigated elsewhere – Abby distinctly recalled a huge explosion this morning, unsure what it was but not daring enough to find out. Something as loud as the bang had been was sure to attract the un-dead, and she wanted to be as far from them as possible. Squinting, the blonde stepped a little further out of the forest and into the sun, unsure if she was seeing things when bodies moved around inside of the prison fences. Surely it was just a bunch of Vicks, happy to wander over the green grass and not attract attention... but the zombies at the fences seemed to be convinced that the figures, so close but so far from her view, were alive.

Her eyebrows pulled together as she surveyed confusion and a reluctant hope nestling inside of her mind. She wanted so desperately to find new people, to find hope and a reason worth living, but that need was almost fatally dangerous for people in this kind of world. Abby swallowed, stepping across the small stream and heading toward the fences, withdrawing her machete from its sheath, a crossbow in her hand ready to fire at any threat. Clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth, she signalled for Zeus to stay close by her side should anything happen, and the dog understood perfectly. How could she get inside of the run-down prison without alerting the Vicks? "Shit," Abby cursed, brushing a strand of hair from her face with that hand that was not clutching her sharpened machete.

Apparently, there was no need for her to figure it out.

Hands grabbed her from behind, rough and calloused on her arms as they dragged her backwards into the forest. One clamped over her mouth, the other fumbling to keep her machete-clad hand away from their body. Zeus whined, but knew not to bark and knew not what was going on; only that Abby was flailing, trying to get out from the stranger's grip. He dragged Abigail up the hill again and into the shelter of the forest, hissing curse words and giving away his gender. "Stupid woman," were the words spat as the stranger let go, leaving Abigail to fall to the ground glaring. "You wanna get yourself killed?"

Stupidly, Abby opened her mouth to holler bloody murder, scrambling back. "Get the fuck away from me!" she screamed, and the redneck had no choice but to take the butt of his crossbow and slam her in the temple with it, turning her vision a sudden black.

* * *

The blonde drifted in and out of consciousness as a car moved beneath her, taking her to an unknown location. She could see the black and white flashes as Zeus sat beside her, the roar of a motorbike in her ears. Vision blurred, she tried to concentrate on something, but nothing remained steady as she looked around, a moan slipping from her lips. Was this it? Was she now a member of the un-dead committee about to chow down on her dog? Another groan slipped from Abby's lips as she tried to sit up, much to a passenger's dismay. "Don't sit up," someone said, their voice much softer than the first man's. "You'll hurt your head."

"'S already hurt," Abby murmured, blinking and reaching up to rub her temples. The car came to a stop and the motorbike engine died, filling the air with silence. Slowly, Abigail was functioning again, her vision still blurred though she managed to get herself out of the car without falling down. The redneck had hit her hard. "Fuckin' redneck," she muttered bitterly, hearing a group's footsteps coming down the gravel road that led behind the safer walls of the prison. She swallowed, avoiding all eyes.

"Glenn, what's this?" a female asked, her voice soft and country-esque. It was cute, or it would have been had Abigail not felt threatened. She glanced over at the male dubbed Glenn, a small Asian who glanced bashfully at the redneck fellow and a chunky, dark-skinned male. "Don't tell me, it was Daryl's idea."

"Mine, actually," the latter replied, stepping forward and crossing his arms over his broad chest. Someone muttered something about 'not letting T-Dog on a hunt again', but the comment was quiet. "I ain't letting some girl sit out there and die, we may as well see if she can do something handy. We need all the manpower we can get," so-called T-Dog added, raising his eyebrows.

"I can see I'm not wanted here," Abby murmured, turning and whistling for Zeus. "I'll just be on my way." Her mind was still foggy, but an idiot could tell that newcomers were not welcome in this group. It would fuck up their dynamic... or something. Nobody said anything and Abby assumed they'd all let her walk out into the waiting heard. "C'mon, Zeus," the blonde murmured, tired and irritated. They'd dragged her from her hiding, cracked her over the head, taken her to God knew where in that prison and now they were just going to let her waltz back through the fence and go on her merry little way.

"Abby?"

The voice was not one from the precious party that had committed this act against the blonde – instead, the drawl was thick and slow, Southern and oddly familiar. It made the blonde stop in her tracks and freeze as she heard something hit the gravel. The male caller had dropped something and was now standing behind Abby with his eyes wide in shock, gaze boring into the back of the ex-sheriff's head. After a moment of heavy silence and no movement, Abigail let out a small chuckle of relief without turning around.

"I thought you were in a coma, Rick Grimes."


	2. Remind Me

**A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful responses to the first chapter, I appreciate it a lot! Please keep reviewing, following and favouring Reviews definitely help my maintain my muse. Sorry that it's a bit slow at the beginning, but most is just establishing Abigail's back story and her relationship with our favourite sheriff. Thanks again!**

**To IndigoFades, jedi-stark, NESSAANCALIME6913, Beckett and CrackersKim for reviewing!**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO:**

**REMIND ME**

* * *

It was almost like Abby's heart had stopped when she actually laid eyes on Rick Grimes, her breath catching in her throat and her chest movements ceasing. She'd seen a lot of people she'd loved die in this world, but Rick had been gone before the apocalypse had even began, shot on duty and pulled by the cruel hands of fate into a coma only to stand before her this very moment. She shuddered at the thought of Rick's injuries, instead focusing on the face she'd once known. Rick's clean-shaven look was gone, but when he looked at Abigail, a certain kindness returned to his eyes, like he'd never been in that coma and the end of the world hadn't happened.

Rick's lower face was coated in stubble, brown other from the dots of gray that aged his complexion greatly. His eyes were sunken, heavy bags sitting underneath them. Last time she'd seen him, he'd been in that hospital gown in his coma. Now, he was wearing a tight, white t-shirt with a pair of black jeans, his sheriff's hat sitting on his son's head as the boy approached the small group of people. "It's nice to see you again," Abby offered after the silence that hung over them became tiresome. "I thought you'd died y'know, long before the outbreak."

Rick chuckled, though it held little humour. "I should have known that if anyone was gonna survive, it'd be you, Abigail." He'd always used her full name when teasing and taunting the blonde – Rick Grimes and Abigail, they constantly paid each other out with those names, their tones light and smirks on their faces. Rick's lips curved upward, genuine laughter leaving his lips. The blonde laughed and rolled her own eyes, though her feeling of easiness seemed to disappear when she realised that they were not, in fact, alone. She glanced around, so many strange faces surrounding her though another caught her attention. The blonde was happy, she supposed, that she'd found an old friend still here in this crappy world – but what would the price of her staying be?

Abby had left all places she'd stayed for a reason – she kept on her feet, kept travelling until she found a good gig for a few nights before, once again, she hit the road with Zeus and kept moving. It helped her to cope, never having a quiet moment long enough to really sit down and think about things. Like she had been nine months ago at Herschel's farm, Abby was teetering on the ledge of insanity and wasn't quite sure how long she could last, friends or no friends. Would she be a danger to other people? She breathed in, rubbing the back of her neck as silence fell once again. What was there to say to an old friend? She bit her lip.

"Looks like a good set-up you have here, Rick," Abby commented, looking around. Numerous other members of the camp began to make their way over the grasslands to where the gates closed, curious and wondering if they would need to help with the new guest. She wished someone else would talk, or take the spotlight away from her, but the people kept coming and circling around her and she was beginning to feel trapped. Perhaps a fearless look about her face would have shown the people she was not afraid, but she couldn't muster the strength to raise her chin just now.

Rick stepped forward, nodding his head and shrugging, somewhat eager to close the distance between the old friends that seemed so barring. He subconsciously fingered the gun he'd dropped before in his hands, nervously twisting and playing with the item. "We'd love it if you'd stay for a while, Abs," he said, nodding, though Abby's mind was elsewhere. She'd heard him clearly, but decided to focus on something else – the male heading toward the group with two females at his side.

"Is that Herschel Greene?" Abigail asked, frowning deeply. The man she saw now was heavily bearded with longer hair, but there was something about the way he walked and the two young girls that walked with him – Beth and Maggie? A look of confusion crossed Rick's face and he turned, side-on to the Greene family and Abigail.

"You know this man?" Rick asked, as though the world was still as populated as ever. Abby swallowed, never having thought about what a reunion would be like with Herschel let alone Rick. Everyone and everything was coming at her quiet fast and she couldn't quite find the ability to be happy. Instead, she swallowed nervously and looked on as Herschel and his girls approached; still unknowing that it was Abigail before them though the girl knew full well who she was looking at. "Herschel," Rick continued, smiling some, "You know Abby?"

Herschel stopped in his tracks, a frown of confusion crossing his features before he glanced over from Rick toward the blonde, standing with her hand buried in Zeus's fur and her bottom lip beneath her teeth anxiously. His features melted into that of recognition before... pity? She couldn't quite tell what Herschel was thinking as he looked on at her, malnourished and scared looking. He smiled. "It's lovely to see you again, Abby."

As if he hadn't thought she wouldn't make it out alive.

She nodded and ran a hand through her unruly hair, smiling slightly though it was out of force. Weren't reunions supposed to be joyous, filled with tight hugs and all that sentimental stuff? Abigail felt nothing but awkward. She'd always pictured herself running to Herschel, or any known survivor for that matter, and enveloping them in a tight hug, something to show them she was sorry and wouldn't let go... but instead, she stood and stared at Herschel with a wry smile on her face. "Hi, Herschel." The blonde took a second to nod in recognition of Maggie and Beth, but said nothing further as everyone stared on. She felt like a freak in a cage.

"I'm glad you're here," Rick said, cutting the silence short once again. "This is somewhere safe," he urged, seeing the look of disdain on Abigail's features. Gently, she shook her head.

"I'm not staying – I can't stay."

Rick frowned, a hurt expression crossing his face. He looked like a kicked puppy. "You've got another camp?"

"No, I – I just can't stay, Rick, it's not a good idea." She shook her head again, trying for a smile though Rick could only look on at her with a perplexed expression. "I'm not bit or anything like that but..." How could she explain it? She didn't want to be around people because she was afraid of hurting them? It sounded petty and pathetic, an excuse. Maybe it was – she was almost scared of human interaction again. "I've been on my own for nine months, it's not a good idea."

Rick glanced around as though hesitant before he shook his head. "Just stay for a few nights, Abby, c'mon – I can't let you go out there again."

There was a certain innocent in Rick's eyes – not the childish innocence he'd had before the outbreak, but in his eyes, the genuineness that just told her that he didn't understand where she was coming from. Abigail wondered if Rick had felt the emotions she'd felt, the despair, the loneliness, the crippling depression that had almost taken Abigail's life numerous times. She swallowed, eyes locked with Rick's, searching for something she couldn't place. She couldn't go out there, but she couldn't stay here, either. Abigail wanted the best of both words, neither of which suited her just enough.

Silence fell over the group like a blanket.

"Fine." The word left Abigail's lips, and she wasn't entirely sure why she was agreeing, but nevertheless, she couldn't bring herself to walk away from him. "I'll stay. But only for a few days, Rick."

* * *

The prison wasn't entirely cleared, but the small group of survivors had quite a decent setup within the safety of the walls. Each member had a bed within a cell, they were heavily armed and had cleared only one cell block though it seemed enough. Abby was nervous as she followed Rick and the others who the man had not yet introduced her to, but she'd caught a glimpse of Rick's wife Lori, the only other familiar face save for the Greene's. She avoided all eyes nervously, instead eyeing her scuffed combat boots or the heels of Rick's shoes.

He showed her around, but the majority of the time, Abigail was not paying attention. Instead, she closely observed her friend, taking in the changes to his physical and mental state. For instance, any body fat that the male used to have before the apocalypse had been stripped and replaced with the lean muscle of much physical labour, Abby scolding herself for noticing the way his arms were much more toned than they once more, eyes drifting to his backside before the woman tore them away. He was thinner now, of course, but so was everybody else.

"You can rest here for a little while," Rick offered, showing her to the cell which was clearly occupied by someone else. Possessions scattered the shelves and ground, shoes and clothes and, on the small chest of drawers, a hand gun. "It's my cot," Rick added, as though reading her thoughts. "Carl's is the one above, and Lori's next door most nights." The last addition sounded like a confession, meagre and sad-sounding. Abigail swallowed and nodded, Zeus trailing behind her as she stepped into the room. It was small, but comfortable at the same time. She glanced back at Rick and smiled softly.

"Thank you," she murmured, nodding her head. "I really appreciate it, Rick."

The blonde was overcome with the need to strip, to take her dirty clothes off and slip away under the covers of the reasonably clean bed. She wanted to be away from how dirty she was, let the clothes fall off of her and let the cool air hit her body. Instead, she cleared her throat and glanced over to see Rick and Herschel turning to leave, the latter having not said anything at all. Perhaps things would be better when the woman woke from her slumber, but her mind clouded over at the thought.

Herschel – the look on his face had deeply hurt Abigail, and she wasn't sure why. Why did the man look so saddened at her arrival? The blonde made a mental note to talk to the man, ask him the questions that she dreaded the answers to. Sighing, the woman removed her shirt and boots but remained clad in her tank-top and jeans, Zeus jumping onto the bed beside her for a warm rest next to his master. She tugged the covers up so they reached her chin, marvelling at the beauty of a bed after nine months of forest floors.

Abigail tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to sleep with the thoughts running through her head. Herschel, Rick... when had the two met? How had they met? There was so much she wanted to know. Did Rick ever even think about her before their brief meeting when she arrived? She sighed, Zeus's head resting beside hers on the pillow. He seemed to understand by the long, sad look he gave her before his eyes closed and he fell into a deep sleep, leaving Abigail in the real world.

For her, the real world was probably better.

No nightmares here, though there were plenty of terrifying thoughts and memories to keep her shuddering.

* * *

When Abigail woke, she had no idea what day or time it was.

The sun was lazily shining through the small windows, barely reaching her room. In the end, it was Zeus who woke her, squirming and nudging her with his cold, wet nose. She moaned, reaching to shove the dog away though there was no getting back to sleep now. "Zeus, piss off," the blonde murmured, rolling over. Her face buried into the pillow, but she allowed herself a moment to slowly wake. Rolling over, she forced her eyes open and stared at the top bunk, sighing. "Suppose we'd better get up, right?"

A small chuckle came from the doorway.

"Don't bother," Rick murmured, his hands by his side as he walked into the room. His eyes asked permission as he took hold of a chair beside the bed and Abigail nodded, smiling slightly as her friend pulled the chair closer and sat on the item backwards, forearms folding along the top of the wooden back of the chair. "How you feelin'?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as Abby propped herself up on her elbow. She gave a shrug, stifling a yawn.

"I'm alright. I feel hung-over," she said, laughing. "Haven't slept like that in months."

"You were out for almost forty hours," Rick said, his tone light and taunting. Abby's eyes widened, and she shook her head.

"No way, that long?" she asked, and he nodded, smirking at her. "Jesus. Why didn't you wake me, Rick?"

"Well you just looked so cute there cuddled up with your pup," the sheriff teased, and Abby blushed, wanting to kick his shin for such a comment. "I slept up in Carl's bed to keep an eye on you – Herschel... he, uh, mentioned some things, you know."

Oh, great. Here it came, the downfall, where Abby was always forced to confess her sins and her sadness and face her life. She swallowed; sending Rick a confused look as he glanced down at his hands, then back up at her. "He said you have nightmares and stuff, you know, shoutin' terrible things." Abigail gnawed on her bottom lip and shuddered at the thought. Most times, she didn't remember the terrible things she saw in her dreams, but on the occasion, scarred faces and screaming haunted her thoughts as well as her nightmares.

"They're just nightmares, Rick," Abby comforted, though she didn't fully believe that herself. "I bet everyone has them these days." She looked away from him and at the Husky beside her, throat thickening.

"Yours are worse," Rick pressed. He knew what she shouted, he'd heard it himself. Hell, the majority of people had evacuated the cell block during the day to avoid her cries, the pained begging for mercy. The images and sounds of her desperate acts shot through his mind, and he wished them away. She'd screamed, thrashed around, pleaded for someone to take her life and end her pain. Often, she shouted names, 'Philip' and the names of many men. Once, she even heard Herschel's name uttered from the woman's lips before it was replaced with a scream. "Anything you wanna get off your chest?" The man's tone changed, suddenly softer than a whisper, his eyes showing a deep concern.

Abigail shook her head immediately, pressing her lips together. "No. Everything is fine, Rick, I swear. Just bad memories, that's all. But that's all they are, memories – it's all in the past like it should be." She almost believed that statement herself as Rick looked on at her, uncertain though willing to let it go. She grinned as though it might convince the man, but he just smiled sadly and nodded his head.

"I don't remember the last time we sat and talked, you know," Rick murmured softly. Abby smirked.

"Two days before you got your ass shot and into a coma," the blonde supplied, amused. Normally, she wouldn't make a joke of such a thing, but it seemed that at the moment there was no other way she was able to communicate with Rick. She wasn't ready to tell him all she'd been through and all she'd lost, so what was left but terrible jokes and laughter made from horrid situations in their past? "You know, I cried for weeks after you left."

Rick raised a brow, but was smiling. "You did, huh? I probably would have cried if I saw me too. Didn't shave for weeks."

Abby snorted and rolled her eyes. "You're such an idiot, Rick Grimes."

He chuckled again, his eyes twinkling. After a moment, he spoke again. "You want something to eat?"

The blonde hadn't realised how hungry she'd grown and her hand immediately flew to her stomach, nodding her head as she stood from the bed. Slowly, as though on new legs, the woman padded out in her socks, tank-top and jeans after the sheriff and headed toward a small storeroom. Though doubt riddled her mind, the day was warm enough inside the prison to lift her spirits. Perhaps staying with people wouldn't be so bad – but that thought was stolen when she left the cell and curious eyes locked onto her figure.

People were staring. They'd heard her episodes during her sleep and they couldn't take their piteous glances off of her. It made her skin itch, her throat swell and her eyes water when she saw old friends like Maggie and Beth look at her like she was walking toward the electric chair. She swallowed but couldn't remove the lump growing in her throat, instead making the thing bigger. "Rick, I –"

"Just ignore it, Abs," he murmured affectionately, a hand hovering protectively at the small of her back as though she was a wounded child. "Give them some time."

Abigail McCann didn't have time; she had horrid memories and painful glances. She only wished she had the power to tell this to her oldest friend.


	3. Misguided Mind

**The attention this story is getting is incredible! Thank you so much, everyone, your reviews really keep me going! This part is a little more intense as we get further into Abby's back ground and see more of her past, why she's so intent of being alone. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and playful Rick/Abby always makes me happy. If anyone is wandering, Abigail's face-claim is Teresa Palmer, a fellow Aussie! **

**Please keep reviewing, favoriting and following! I've loved your reviews and the f/f numbers going up so much I've updated three days early. I couldn't help myself.**

**WeAsHuman/Lovely Kaplan/jedi-stark/IndigoFades thank you so much for reviewing!**

**Beckett/DetectiveMax; **You might be on to something there! ;)

**REVIEW OF THE WEEK TOTALLY GOES TO GUEST. "Two things that get you killed in a zombie apocalypse... hysterical women and stupid kids. Sooo glad to see my favorite King county sheriff with a strong self-reliant women in his life. I look forward to seeing how this story plays out."** Thanks so much for your review! I was hoping people would see Abigail as that way.

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE:**

**MISGUIDED MIND**

* * *

_She was running, hair whipping around her face angrily at her pace as she panted, her breath and the crunching of the dead leaves that had fallen beside the road from the trees in the forest beneath her feet the only sounds heard. Tears streamed down her face, thick and leaving trails through the dust and grime on her features. She knew that no matter how far she ran, the man would eventually found her. Even in their little town where she hid in places no person would think to look, Philip always found her. He was good at that – he was no hunter and was terrible at tracking, but the man was always a brilliant judge of character. He knew the woman running, and she knew he'd be back._

_If she was smart or desperate to stay alive, she'd have navigated off the road by now. But the woman had no weapons and no way to defend herself should a walker come by, and part of herself felt safer on the road on which she ran at the fastest pace she could manage. She'd had to leave her dog behind – that poor thing had been with the children of the town, unaware to the fact that his owner would make her break out as soon as she could. However, the woman was growing weaker with every step – blood trickled down her side from a reopened stab wound that she'd only just had patched up again by the town's doctor. On her leg, a bleeding graze from a bullet that had narrowly missed her from Woodbury's security. _

_But she knew he'd come for her._

_What was the use in running? Perhaps she thought this time, Philip would kill her. It was the last good thing he'd ever think of doing for the woman, but she couldn't take it anymore. Getting on that man's bad side had been a bad, bad idea. It had only been three months since the woman had left a far she'd stayed at, and she found herself wishing that she'd stayed despite the fact that she was a danger to every man and woman there. She couldn't have more names under her belt, it was too painful even for her, the strong woman she'd once been._

_Interrupting her panting and her rhythmic heartbeat in her ears was an engine, soft and humming until the woman knew it was advancing on her. She was tempted to not give up just yet, but as soon as the sound filled her ears, her burning legs would not move any further. She slowed to a jog, sobs at ripping through her and slowing her pace right down until she stopped completely, falling to her knees on the asphalt. It could have easily been another survivor on the road, but her gut knew who it was, the man who was coming after her with his fleet of side-kicks. The road bit at her knees as she fell and drew blood, tearing the skin away from the bone though she almost didn't even notice. Her hands hovered on her thighs and her body shook with cries, her fate sealed._

_Behind her, the car came to a stop and the engine ceased. _

_It was a moment before anything happened, the car door opening and closing, feet hitting the gravelly road. Three or four men, it sounded like, each likely to be carrying guns to execute the woman. Her time was now, and she couldn't have been happier. How much longer was Philip going to put up with her, torture her and make her beg only for her to spread the word among Woodbury (though he'd soon corrected her "lies") or escape again? Only one set of footsteps began toward her, her cries almost muting the sound. "I knew you wouldn't get far," a voice said, low and disgusted in the woman for even trying. She hadn't made much of an effort, really. His voice was thick, a Southern drawl dripping from his words. "Such a brave thing, running away from me."_

_His voice was condescending and he showed no real sympathy. Instead, one hand of slender fingers wrapped around the sobbing woman's neck, the other grabbing her ponytail and yanking her head back, bringing a cry of pain from her lips. "Oh, stop your crying," Philip snapped, fingertips digging into the flesh of her neck. "You know, I really feel we could have had a good thing going, but you just had to go fuck it up, didn't you?" The hand at her neck fell away and hovered to the man's side, where he slowly took a knife from its holster on his hip. "I should slit your throat right now."_

_She wouldn't beg. This woman did not beg for her life no matter who it was stealing it from her grasp. "Then do it," she spat, earning a laugh. The cold blade of the machete chilled her skin as he pressed it against her jugular, hard enough for some small speckles of ruby red blood to dribble down. "You fucking won't."_

_He laughed again. "You're damn right I won't," he sneered, lips pressing to her ear. His hot breath trickled over her skin, tingling and burning every inch of her. She was on fire, she wanted to scream. Instead, a small sob escaped before she pressed her lips together in a tight line, desperate not to let another tear fall. His laugh echoed through her mind and through the air long after the man closed his mouth, shattering her bones and her will to go on. "Your security will have to be tightened, my darling," he murmured, sighing over dramatically. He loosened his grip on her hair, but still held her close with the machete, the hand drifting to her waist. _

"_You disgust me," the woman in his grip spat. Philip merely snickered, lips pressing closer. Her heart thudded in her chest. _

"_I can feel your heart beating," he murmured against her pulse point, and the woman shuddered. "It's beating so fast." His mouth curved into a smirk and he chuckled against her throat. And, as soon as he had appeared, the man pulled back, finding her hair again and wrenching her up to her feet. "Get up!" he screamed, rage suddenly piercing the still air. "Stand the fuck up!" His words were firm and she was scared to argue, too weak to run thanks to the bleeding wounds her body sustained. All from Philip. _

_The man's firm hands guided the woman to the car that he and the men standing around the car had arrived in, leaving marks on her skin that would surely turn to bruises in the coming days. She tried to fight, but her strength was no match for Philip's. He hauled her into the car like trash, laughing all the way. She was his property, he her keeper and she had no choice in the matter though she wanted so desperately to cry, to beg for some fraction of her life back._

_With Philip, though, all was useless._

"_So what are you gonna do with me, _Governor?"_ she demanded, bitterness in her tone. The man glanced in the rear-view mirror, eyes locking with the woman's. He smirked at her._

"_I'm taking you back where you belong, Abigail."_

* * *

The blonde woke with a start, a shrill scream leaving her lips as her chest rose and fell with her gasps for breath. Shaky hands gripped her sheets as though they might offer her some sanity, but alas, Abby found nothing but her empty bed and her crowded mind. She sighed, rubbing her temples with her fingertips and wondering where Zeus had gone. The woman was determined to have her past in the past and though she could recall her dreams quite clearly, for they were really memories replayed in her mind, she pretended that nothing had happened. Her sleep had been as sound as a baby's.

Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she fumbled for a towel that Rick had lent her and headed toward the shower block, never having been so thankful for hot water in her life. Quickly, she turned the water on and stripped down, eager for the water's warmth over her body. Before finding the prison, the woman hadn't showered for quite a while – since her last camp. Scrubbing her body, she took extra time in the task as though trying to rid of invisible layers of grime and dirt. Memories, perhaps, coating her skin and bones and making her feel filthy.

She stayed underneath the spray of water for maybe twenty minutes, marvelling at how her thoughts seemed to wash away with the water, stripping her clean for just a while and warming her right to the bones. It felt nice, forgetting and focusing on the cleanliness. After a while, she cut the water supply and grabbed her towel, rubbing her hair for a moment to dry it before wrapping the thing around her body. Steam swirled in the air around her, hindering her sight. Abby felt uneasy as soon as she realised how little she could see, as though she was out in the open alone where the walkers – or something worse – could find her.

Hurriedly, the woman re-dressed herself in a tight pair of blue jeans, a white wife-beater and her combat boots, the latter of which never seeming to leave her feet. She hadn't seen anybody today which was somewhat relieving, but now, Abigail had the desire to talk to somebody. Human contact hadn't been something she'd had often between Herschel's farm and the prison, even when she had been in the little town, the name of which she'd banished from her mind. Carrying the towel, the blonde headed outside toward the clothes line where Carol was standing, hanging out the washing of the small group of people. Abby smiled softly. Some things never changed, and one of those things was the need for housework despite the world turning to shit. "Morning, Carol," Abby greeted, heading toward the woman.

Carol and Abigail had only exchanged small-talk between the long hours in which Abby slept. She'd been in the prison almost five days now and though she hadn't planned to stay that long, most of her time here had been catching up on sleep. One of the deputy's downfalls was that she never noticed how exhausted she was until she actually rested. The short-haired woman looked away from the cloth she was hanging up in the sun and smiled warmly at Abby in greeting. "Good afternoon," she corrected, chuckling. Abby winced.

"Again, really?" she asked, and Carol nodded, amused. Abby's sleeping pattern was terrible and she felt guilty for not doing more to help out around here before her departure. Abby sighed, though she was smiling softly as she reached into the basked of wet washing, tugging out a t-shirt before she grabbed some pegs. "I feel a lot better though," Abby added, a weak attempt at making conversation. Carol nodded.

"And you look much better, too," she said, meaning well. "You've got a bit of your colour back, and your bags are slowly disappearing."

Abby smirked. "It'll take a miracle for my bags to completely disappear. 'Specially when I get back on the road." This comment made the other woman wince to herself, her lips forming a disapproving line.

"What are you gonna do out there all alone, Abby?" Carol asked, genuinely concerned for her new friend. The conversation they had shared over the past couple of days had been... well, nice. It was always nice for Carol to have another friend around, especially with Lori's pregnancy taking up a lot of conversation and Maggie spending most her time with Glenn. Axel was nice to talk to on the occasion too, but Rick still found those prisoners threatening and she tried to keep her distance. "I don't know why you want to leave with such a good thing goin' on here, especially since you've got a past with Rick and Herschel."

Though she had to agree with the part about having a 'good thing going', Abby shook her head. "I know who I am now, Carol, and it ain't someone who belongs in a group. I'm too far gone for that." Perhaps the facade in which Abby pretended she was actually better off alone was growing old, but what if she happened to stumble across Philip one day? What if she pulled this group into danger – or worse, became the danger herself?

"You know, when you sleep, Rick tells us a lot of stories. He's real happy to have you around," Carol said. Abby smiled softly.

"It was nice, seeing him again. I'm glad I did."

"Maybe you should stick around then. He's hoping you will."

Abby felt like an intruder.

"He's got Lori and Carl to worry about, not to mention everyone else."

Carol sighed, but let the subject go. She was not a woman to push things and fell silent, deciding it better to let her comments stick in Abby's mind for a while like she hoped. It was important to her, the happiness of this group, and Carol knew that if Sophia was still around, she'd have loved Abby. Just yesterday, the woman had sat around with Carl and Beth, telling stories about her and Rick that were completely made up and childish, but entertaining for the two nonetheless. Carl had grinned and looked at the woman as though she was an angel – he had, after all, known Abby the majority of his short life. She was like an Aunt, and the kids loved Zeus being around. It reminded them of life before the apocalypse.

Hanging up the last piece of washing, Abby mumbled a goodbye to Carol and headed in the opposite direction down to the vegetable patch where Rick was working with Herschel, her mind wandering as she walked. She imagined what it would be like had the world not turned to shit, how things would be between she and Rick if they were still partners in law enforcement rather than two near-strangers who'd met again in the apocalypse. He was her best friend, really, and she'd always loved the man. As she approached, the two men digging around in the to-be vegetable patch looked up, both smiling though Herschel looked slightly forlorn.

"Afternoon," the blonde greeted, giving a small nod of recognition.

"Hello, Abigail." The greeting came from Herschel, the first of the men to speak. "Good to see you awake." A small smile played onto his lips, more genuine than the last ones he'd been giving Abby. She snorted playfully.

"It's good to be awake. I feel like I've just woken from a coma." At this, Rick gave his own snort of amusement.

"I'll bet you know what that feels like," the sheriff taunted Abby, and she laughed for the first time in months, bringing a smile from Rick's lips. "What can I do for you, Abs?" he asked, and Abby gnawed on her bottom lip.

"I was wondering if anyone was going on a run soon."

Rick glanced over at Herschel as though he wasn't sure she should be asking that question, a concerned look on his face. Abby shifted awkwardly. She wanted to be out moving, adrenaline flowing through her veins and the wind in her hair as she ran for her life. It was a sick pleasure she took in having her life in danger, a dangerous urge that could one day cost her life, but she loved it nevertheless. "Please, Rick, I need to be out there again, helping this group somehow. All I've done for five days is sleep. Let me do something."

After a moment of silence and a warning look from Herschel that went unnoticed by Rick, the sheriff nodded. "I'll organise one. But I'm coming with you."

She wanted to argue like a child, but instead, the blonde nodded in understanding. "Of course," she agreed. Cooperation was key, not throwing a dummy spit about not getting her way, and if Abigail knew anything, it was how to compromise.

"Meet me at the gate in about half an hour," Rick said, licking his lips and finalising his command with a nod.

* * *

As Rick said, a small group of the prison's inhabitants met at the gates half an hour later. The posse included Daryl, Glenn and T-Dog, the men who had bought Abigail here in the first place, along with Rick and Abigail. The first three seemed to be the usual scouts, but today, the latter two were tagging along to their confusion. Usually, Rick didn't leave the prison in fear of Lori going into labour without him there or something happening. He felt like he was leaving a baby in a hot car – though the residents of the prison were far more capable than Rick liked to believe. Wordlessly, Rick, Abby, Glenn and T-Dog piled into the small green four-door car while Daryl hopped on his motorbike, Carol and Maggie opening the gates for them.

"Where are we headed?" Abby asked Rick from the passenger seat, glancing over at the man's profile. Even in the apocalypse, the man was strikingly handsome. He had a certain rugged charm about him with his stubble and the slight bags underneath his eyes, his skin tanned and worn from hours of sun and labour. With broad shoulders and a slender yet muscled build, Rick proved himself able to fit more than one type of profile – once the loving sheriff with careful eyes and now the dirtied survivor with blood on his hands, he had changed quite a bit since Abby had seen him, but she still found something eerily familiar about the different features. His hands were what Abby liked most, strangely enough. Rick's fingers were strong and slender, his knuckles pronounced and his hands steady, never shaking.

"Town just north of the prison," the male replied. She'd seen many sides of this man – anger, terror, love, laughter. She'd been there on his wedding day, she'd seen him get shot at, she'd seen a bullet ricochet through his chest and arm. How many sides of Rick Grimes had she witnessed in being on the force with him? And how many of them really reflected who he was these days? Before she realised she was staring, Rick glanced over, smiling crookedly at her. "What are you staring at?" he asked, his tone gentle and almost teasing. Abby chuckled and shook her head.

"Certainly not your ugly mug," she lied, laughing softly and turning back to the windshield and staring out at the passing trees. When a man stepped seemingly out of nowhere and a shrill scream left Abby's lips, Rick jerked the steering wheel to the side to swerve away from the walker, grunting as he veered the car toward the surrounding trees, panic sounding through the air.


	4. Take a Risk

**A/N: Thank you all so much for such an amazing amount of reviews, favorites and follows. But please remember to keep reviewing, as your comments really help me mould this story and keep me going! I love you all and your comments, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Thank you to: IndigoFades, jedi-stark, Lovely Kaplan and AllThingWeird35 for your reviews! /hands out candy.**

**And the review of the week goes to AllThingWeird35! Totally not because I have a weak spot for people who compliment Abby, since I try very hard. :p /Hands bouquet of flowers. **"I'm in love with this story already. Gah, I just can't put my feelings into words but it is certainly remarkable. And it's so good to find a Rick/OC that's super duper good. Can't wait for the next chapter, I'll know it will be fantastic (Abby's awesome by the way)"

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR:**

**TAKE A RISK**

* * *

The car swerved, dangerously close to flipping as it collided with the walker coming from the trees. The brakes screeched through the air, Abby clutching the side of her seat with trembling hands, her knuckles white. It sent a shock-wave of déjà-vu through her, the almost-collision with the walker, and though they seemed just fine as Rick slowly bought the car to a stop on the side of the road. The sheriff glanced over at the blonde woman who immediately turned to look out of the back window, her eyes fallen on the now more-mutated walker, struggling to stand and come after their car. She swallowed, throat thick as she glanced back at Rick with an apologetic look on her pretty features. "I'm sorry – I was distracting you," she apologised, though the male shook his head.

"Its fine, Abby," he murmured, more intrigued with her expression as she looked back once again past Glenn and T-Dog and to the struggling walker. She excused herself, un-holstering her knife as she pushed her door open. Lucky for them, this walker seemed to be alone, a straggler behind (or perhaps in front of) a group of the dead and decaying. Rick frowned, unbuckling his seat-belt and getting out of the car, worried that the woman was going to do something that would get herself injured. Instead, Abby leaned down beside the walker, which was now even more disfigured than it had been before they'd hit it. They'd done quite a bit of damage to the creature, and Abby winced at the familiar decaying smell that hit her nose.

The walker's arm had been ripped clean off, and what once used to be a man was now just a pile of limbs barely threaded together. His clothes were falling off, a rip in his flannel shirt showing a gaping hole in his stomach where his guts and innards once sat. His skin was gray and covered in scratches and wounds, another large hole in the man's cheek showing his rotting teeth. Abby sighed, but didn't hesitate as she raised her foot and gave the walker's knee a hard kick. Her action sent her walker to its hands and knees, a low growl slipping from its decayed lips as though it actually felt the pain she inflicted on it. Taking her knife, she stepped forward and embedded the blade of her small knife in the temple of the creature, grunting with the force of her movement.

She swiftly wiped the blade of the knife on the clothes of the now-dead walker, turning back to the car and stopping as she realised Rick was standing beside the small vehicle, confused. She frowned. "I didn't want to leave it here, just wandering around like that," the woman explained. She had always had a bit of a soft spot for the un-dead – Abby showed mercy on the creatures whenever possible, finding that part of her just couldn't let them walk around like that. Perhaps, she wondered, becoming one of these creatures was like being possessed. She worried that the soul of the person who once owned that body was still inside, only to be at peace when the monster was killed. "I don't think that it's right, leaving them when you can put them out of their misery." They were like rabid dogs to her – dangerous and needing to be put down to end their suffering. Rick cocked his head, but understood where she was coming from.

Without a word, Abby got back into the car after shoving her knife in her belt holster beside her gun. Some had told her it was a silly belief and a dangerous game, wanting to put them down and end their suffering, but the woman stood by her opinion nice and strong and was grateful when Rick said nothing on the matter, instead pulling away from the side of the road and continuing on like nothing had happened. Soon, the group of four, with Daryl up ahead waiting outside the store quietly, they rolled into the small town. "Looks deserted," Abby commented, glancing out her window and seeing almost no signs of movement save for the trees in the soft breeze. As calming as it was to see the town void of movement, it also worried her – a town of this size would have had a population of around four-hundred. Where had the people that hadn't survived the initial outbreak all gone? Abby bit her lip as Rick slowed the car and pulled up beside Daryl, the four of them getting out of the small vehicle and assembling in a circle outside the store. "Why is there no one around?" Abby asked, however unlikely it was that anyone knew the answer. Rick frowned.

"Maybe something drew the walkers away," he mused, and Abby looked at him with an amused expression.

"Walkers?"

Rick blinked. "Yeah, walkers – the..." he trailed off as though he couldn't figure out how to explain the name for the un-dead, and Abby chuckled.

"I call 'em Vicks," she said. "Like victims. Just like we used to in the force." Rick's expression was thoughtful at this, and Daryl squinted at the blonde, considering the term though it was unlikely they'd all run around screaming Vicks now. "Walkers." She snorted, going over to the window of the store and peering in, hands blocking light from the sun as she pressed her face against the windows.

"Vicks makes more sense," T-Dog murmured thoughtfully, and Glenn rubbed his chin.

"But they walk. That's why they're walkers."

"Yeah, but they feed too," the larger male replied. "We ain't calling them 'feeders'."

"That's because 'feeders' is a dumbass name," Daryl snapped, and Abby laughed, knocking on the glass to attract walkers that may be inside, listening amusedly to the small argument happening throughout the group. "'Walkers' is just fine."

"All I'm saying is, 'Vicks' is fine too!"

Rick raised a brow at the three men and crossed his arms over his broad chest, chuckling slightly before glancing at Abby, who smirked at him. "You always were a trouble maker," he teased, and she tilted her head back and laughed lightly at the accusation. "Look at them, bickering like children." At this, Daryl scowled deeply at the sheriff. Abby poked her tongue out.

"Sheriff, you've gotta start handling your community better," she said, her head gesturing toward the men. "Or else someone's gonna have to replace you, huh." With that, she grinned and blew Rick a taunting kiss before turning and yanking open the door to the supermarket, knife drawn though she was satisfied there was no real threat. They'd made quite the ruckus, yet nothing had come out so far. She looked back and waited for Rick's nod before she yanked open the glass door, cracked and just about falling out of the frame. She whistled lowly, but still, the woman received not even a low moan as response. Perhaps the place had been cleared out?

The blonde grabbed a shopping basket and began scoping the stores isles, heading to the very back of the store where she found baby products. She was well aware that Lori was pregnant, but hadn't had a chance to speak to the woman – Abby felt that it might be slightly awkward considering the two were never really friends before the end of the world. But she hadn't been avoiding the other woman, she merely hadn't stumbled across Lori's path except for when she'd first arrived and given a stiff 'hello' to Rick's wife. To her pleasure, the isle had barely been touched and allowed for Abby to nab a few plastic feeding bottles and some formula, dropping it all in her basket. "What did you find?" a voice from behind asked, and Abby whirled around, her heart stilling when her eyes fell on Rick.

"Some baby formula," she answered, holding up the tin she was placing in her basket. "Thought it might be helpful for Lori." The air around them suddenly became slightly uncomfortable as Rick stayed silent for a moment before heading toward her, eyes scanning the shelves. He gave a small, slightly amused smile as he picked up a baby-onesie, holding the tiny garment in his large hands. For a moment, he almost looked the same as he had almost twelve years ago, when Abby was just a kid training on the force and he her new best friend. The picture before her made her think of when Lori had been pregnant with Carl, Rick fresh out of high-school and straight into the force like nothing else. He'd been so over the moon at Lori's pregnancy despite his young age, and Abby had been happy for them – now, not so much. She sighed. "What's going to happen to you, Rick?" she asked, and he looked up, furrowing his brow.

"I don't know what you mean," he lied, and Abby almost laughed. He was a horrid liar, that man. He knew it, too, and smiled slightly bashful. "I don't know, Abby."

"Seems to me like you're in a bit of a pickle," she murmured, and Rick shrugged, both people standing shoulder-to-shoulder as they scanned the baby isle uninterestedly. "But you got the prison, right? It's a safe place for Lori and the baby." Rick just nodded, unsure of how to respond. After a moment, Abby continued. "Carol mentioned you two have been a little tense lately." It was her attempt at getting him to talk – and most of the time, it worked. He needed someone that wasn't going to judge him, someone that hadn't seen him go from a strong leader to a weak, frail man. She still idolized him, the man that taught her everything she knew. He sighed, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

"If the prison doesn't hold, Abby... we're done for. We need more manpower, the walkers at the gate are just going to get worse." He believed that their group had the potential to outlive this, really – but the prison wasn't going to be safe forever. Walkers had a way of finding the weak spots and getting inside the prison, and Rick feared that if they didn't wipe the whole place completely, top to bottom, someone would get the surprise attack on them. They hadn't even looked at the rest of the place, though, which worried him. It was their lives, and no matter how hard they worked to stay alive, it always seemed like it wasn't enough... that something or someone could one-up them and tear them apart, physically or mentally.

"You gotta work hard for it Rick, these days, nothing is handed to you." But how much harder could they work? Rick was almost at his breaking point already. "But I'll be there with you, and I'll hold your ground like the old days." She said this without looking at him, but Rick knew she meant it. Abby had always been a woman of word and never said anything she didn't truly mean. He smiled slightly, but he just looked tired.

"So you're not leaving then?" he asked almost childishly. Abby chuckled and shook his head.

"You can thank Carol for that. She, uh, talked a bit of sense into me." Not really, but the woman had given a helpful shrug. "Besides, Carl needs someone a little more badass in his life, and I'd suggest Daryl if one look from him didn't make me nearly wet myself. I don't want Carl turning sides on me, now." Rick laughed, shaking his head at the woman though he was pleased. Patting her on the shoulder, he started toward the end of the isle, beckoning for Abby to follow.

"You're alright, you know that," he murmured appreciatively, and she smirked at him.

"Honey, you figured that out twelve years ago when you first laid eyes on me."

* * *

She couldn't believe that there had been next to no walkers in the small town – sure, it wasn't exactly Georgia's state capital, but it had been a whole town of people... and they'd just vanished. It unnerved her, but the woman preferred not to think about it. The four men and Abby loaded their baskets of goodies into the boot of the car, just about filling it with baby needs, canned foods and – would you believe – actual painkillers and various other medical over-the-counter needs. She was quite pleased that they'd hit the jackpot almost, though it would only be a few days until they needed another run to another store. Things never tended to last long around the prison, there were just so many mouths to feed. There wasn't much chatter amongst the small group as they readied themselves to move off, some movement catching Abby's eye up ahead. She frowned, turning to Rick. "Vick – I mean, walker," she said, pointing up ahead.

They were on the road that led more or less straight back to the prison, the car slowing at the lone walker. Much the same as the other that Abby had killed on their way to the store, it was decayed and completely alone, which seemed strange to her. She frowned as Rick began to slow, assuming she'd want to take care of the creature. "No," she ordered. "Keep going. Something's not right here. I don't want to risk it." In Abby's experience, the walkers travelled in packs of at least half a dozen. She'd never seen lonesome ones, and when she had, they'd always been followed or following a pack of the deadly zombies. It chilled her to think of the trouble lone walkers had gotten her into since leaving Herschel's farm. Rick nodded and sped up, Daryl disappearing slightly up ahead.

It wasn't long before the hunter returned, speeding toward the car.

Rick slammed on the breaks as Daryl pulled up beside them. "We gotta turn around," he said, a light edge of panic to his voice. When Rick frowned in confusion, Daryl wiped his brow and licked his lips.

"Walkers," Abby said for him, and he nodded.

"There's gotta be at least a hundred of 'em, almost rode straight into the pack," he said, and Rick swore loudly. When Abby started unbuckling her seatbelt, Rick looked to her with a stony expression.

"We gotta direct them away from the prison," she breathed, her eyes lighting up in an almost masochistic way. "I'm gonna bring 'em up back to town on foot, lead 'em at least twenty miles away." The plan evolved rapidly in her head – lead the walkers away, camp out for the night and circle back in the morning. When Rick opened his mouth to protest again, Abby shook her head. "We can't risk it, Rick – but I wanna take someone with me, if y'all don't mind?" When the first walker came into sight, the woman's eyes narrowed slightly. "What you gotta do is go back through town, but circle 'round and get back on his highway. By the time you do that, this lot will be gone, but don't make too much noise. Go slow and quiet."

T-Dog unbuckled his seatbelt, willing to join the woman on what seemed to be a suicide mission. He swallowed, grabbing his pack and shoving a few cans inside along with their water-bottles and a few rounds of gun ammunition. Rick pressed his lips into a thin line. "I don't like this," he growled, and Abby smirked.

"You never could win an argument with me, Rick Grimes," the woman replied lightly, leaning toward him to envelope him in a tight hug. "I'll see you soon, sheriff."

Her plan was simple, really – she and T would fire off a few shots to gain all the walker's attention from the cars to them and Rick would go straight back to the prison while the two of them kept them away, left a few false blood-trails and got the hell out of there. As Rick and Daryl drove away, the two looked at each other and Abby chuckled lightly, holding out a fist for T-Dog to bump with a grin. The male rolled his eyes, but chuckled as he bumped the woman's fist with his own. _We're gonna be fine,_ Abby told herself, chanting the words in her head as she raised her gun and fired twice. "Come on, mother fuckers!" she crooned, a small crowd beginning to form as the walkers started advancing. T-Dog joined in, whooping as he fired off some shots before Abby jolted her head back, telling them to start moving in a slow jog. _We'll be fine. We're gonna be fine. _The more Abby chanted her words, the more she believed them.


	5. Limbs Burning

**A/N: 23 reviews in five chapters! WOO! Keep 'em coming, guys! IN CASE anyone hasn't seen yet, I've added some links for multimedia regarding this story on my page - a trailer and a photo of Abby. PLEASE keep reviewing! **

**Review of the week goes to: Lovely Kaplan. **"Oh sheet, Abigail Marie Whatever Your Last Name Is, you better run like a little bitch & not pull a Shane & leave T-Dogg behind(kidding, I know she won't)" **This made me laugh so hard okay omfg.**

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE:**

**LIMBS BURNING**

* * *

"You feelin' alright?"

Abby glanced toward T-Dog, her breath coming in pants, her tight clothes covered with the sweat that poured from her body. The male looked up from his feet, his hands closed tightly around his knife, gun in its holster just like Abby had done. It'd been two days since they'd left the car on the highway – they'd led the walkers maybe thirty miles away from the small town they'd ransacked, and Abby was pleased with their job – but there was still the fact that they were half a day's walk away from home, and there were straggling walkers all over the place. Of course, it wasn't more than they could handle, but the blonde and her accomplice needed to keep on their toes. Running on little sleep and little food, both were fast becoming exhausted.

"I bet I'm feelin' better than you look," T-Dog countered with a small smirk, taunting the woman and causing her to stick her tongue out at the male, who then laughed. When Rick had left them on the highway, it had been late afternoon, and they'd found a house back in town to stay in that night. However, when they woke, the town was so filled with walkers they almost didn't escape with their lives (or all of their limbs still intact). T-Dog and Abby had both had more close encounters than they'd pleased and their clothes were covered in walker bits, but they'd survived. "How much further d'you reckon we've got, huh?" he asked, looking back to the almost empty highway. To their left was a broken-down vehicle that looked about as old as Abby, but other than that... there was nothing.

It was both peaceful and worrying.

But Abby and T-Dog had done, in her opinion, a bloody brilliant job at leading the walkers away from the prison. Two hours they'd pushed on day one before settling in a house. The next morning, they'd woken and snuck out the back door, avoiding all the walkers they could. When they were safely out of town, the two fired off more shots and drew just about two hundred walkers – what seemed like the whole town's damn population. It wasn't a big place at all. That whole second day had been drawing the walkers away and creating fake blood trails that the walkers could follow around aimlessly in circles – but Abby missed that flannelette t-shirt she'd cut up and bled all over for the sole purpose of leading the flesh eaters away from their safe place. "Well we walked _and ran _about thirty miles north of the prison to get the Vick's away, and that took about eight hours without doing the blood trails we left for them," she murmured, furrowing her eyebrows in thought. "And now, I'd say we've been walking around seven hours today. We're almost back in town, any minute now, T. Then twenty minutes or so to the prison."

It was a relief for the man to hear that, because poor T-Dog was aching in all kinds of places. And the town meant food and possibly water – at the thought, T-Dog's stomach grumbled, and Abby looked over with an amused expression on her face as though she'd never known hunger in this type of world. She smirked at him, and he glowered at her thought it was all in good fun. "Doesn't feel like it's been two days since we last saw them, hey?" she asked, and T-Dog nodded his head. These days, their time perception was seriously messed up. Minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days and days... well, they could feel like _years _sometimes. Abby winced. "I can't remember the last time I actually missed Rick Grimes," she joked, running her hand through her blonde hair. T-Dog raised an eyebrow, glancing toward her. "I mean, after the outbreak, I thought about him every now and then. But it was kind of in a way that I was glad he'd died before all this shit, not in an 'I wish you were here' kind of way," the blonde explained, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"He was in a coma, wasn't he?" T-Dog asked, and Abby nodded her head.

"For a month. I reckon it was the night the lucky fucker got shot that everything started going bad."

"Why do you say 'lucky'?"

"Rick's a good man. He'd have ended up trying to help one of the chewy sons of bitches and gotten himself bit. I'm glad he was out for the worst of it."

T-Dog paused as if considering this, the corners of his lips turning down in thought as he nodded his head. He was quite curious, really, because he'd seen the way that Rick and Abby interacted and he wasn't sure he'd seen _Lori_ and Rick interact like that since before they'd arrived at Herschel's farm. He opened his mouth to question the woman, but before he'd had a chance, her mouth parted in a wide grin as she gave a gasp of excitement. _Welcome to Burberry – Population, 372._ "We're here!" she sang, turning to T-Dog. "Jesus, I never thought I'd be so happy to be in a tiny town like this, man." The male beside her chuckled and shook his head, but the thoughts of Abby and Rick were soon lost on the idea that they might have food in just a few minutes.

They rounded the street corner, coming to the main road where all the little stores and businesses were kept. Despite the small population, there had been a throng of tiny little shops – a clothes store, which Abby made a mental note to stop by, as well as what was once a cafe/bakery and a small newsagents store. What Abby and T were most concerned about, however, was their previously looted supermarket. Abby grinned, beckoning for T-Dog to follow her as she made her way through the doors, assuming there were no walkers present since they had lacked during their first visit. "Canned goods," she murmured, reading the signs of the isles until she came to the desired. "What do you feel like, hm?" she asked, scanning the shelves until she found canned beans. She grabbed two cans, shoving them in her bag before taking one for now.

"Rick did give you the can opener, didn't he?" T-Dog asked, holding up some corn before putting it back, instead going for some spaghetti.

"Yup," Abby replied, popping the 'p'. "Do you wanna head back today, or rest for the night?" she asked, not bothering to glance over at the male, who was busying himself with his own choice of what they now considered delicacies.

"I'm exhausted, but I wanna go home. How many hours you think we've got left in the day? I know it's not a long walk back home." Abby wrinkled her nose in thought, glancing out the nearby window of the store.

"If we walk fast or jog for a while, I think we can make it before sundown."

"Let's do it, then. I need to be home."

Perhaps they hadn't been quiet and careful enough – but, from the left of the store through an open back entrance, a walker tilted his head, grunting. He was tall and stocky, and followed by another three as he entered the store with blood dripping from his chin and red eyes. The other three followed his movements as he shuffled inside, Abby and T-Dog's voices loud enough for them all to hear, now. Laughter sounded out before Abby snorted, then T-Dog's protest as she whacked him playfully. As the walker rounded the corner at the end of their isle, things seemed to happen in slow motion as Abby turned and saw the four dead human's, picking up speed at the sight of a new meal.

The blonde withdrew her knife from its sheath, but T-Dog panicked and reached for his gun, firing off and hitting the first walker square between the eyes. "No!" Abby shouted, darting forward with her knife. "Don't use your gun!" she screamed – if there were walkers where they were, there were still more bound to be in the area – and they couldn't risk drawing the pack back here, not after all their work. T-Dog cursed loudly as Abby took down the second walker with her knife, the third reaching for her and grabbing her wrist. She stumbled on the second's body as she tried to free herself, falling backwards with the snapping walker on top of her. Grunting, the blonde fought to get her knife hand free, stabbing the walker's skull as T-Dog took down the last one. Shoving the body off of her, blood dripping down her exposed neck, face and chest, she wiped her forehead. "We need to leave before more come," she panted, and T-Dog swallowed thickly.

Abby zipped up her bag and shoved a couple more cans inside, deciding they had no time for water. "Come on," she called, stepped over the bodies and toward the front door. As they left the store, it became clear that T-Dog's shot fired had called more company than the two of them would have liked. "Shit," she cursed, licking her lips. "Why are they still here? I thought they all would have moved with us." The walkers came from only one corner, though as they did so, it was clear what had caught their attention. One, a tall woman with matted hair, rounded with a large limb in her hand. "That's a fucking horse leg," Abby spat, realising that the creature must have gotten the walkers' attention, drawing a good fifteen or so of them away from their heard.

"We've gotta run," T-Dog said, looking to Abby with wide eyes. "Back to the prison."

Abby holstered her knife, tempted to find her gun though it was a terrible idea to draw even more. She looked to T-Dog and nodded her head, drawing in a deep breath. "Yeah, alright, let's go," she said, readjusting her bag before the two of them turned, leaving the walkers behind as they ran as fast as they could manage in the heat with the new weight in their packs. Their panting filled the air but soon, they'd left the walkers completely alone in their shitty little town and found themselves in the middle of nowhere, though night was falling at a rapid pace around them. "I thought we had longer," Abby called over to T-Dog, finding that their only source of light was the fat-bellied moon above them.

"We gotta keep going, we're almost there, Abby," he replied, though she knew it would be a death wish to turn around now. She just hoped that Rick and whoever else had somebody on guard so they could actually get back in the prison. Pushing on, Abby could feel her body beginning to weaken as they turned down the dirt path that led down to the prison fences, the bumpy and uneven road making Abby's feet ache. "Come on, Abs," T-Dog called as the woman began to drop back. "Rick!" he shouted, waving his arms as they ran. "Open the gates, now!"

Of course, the prison fences were not void of walkers, and each growling once-human turned in the screaming couple's direction. "Open the gates!" Abby shrieked, seeing movement over the prison grounds as the inhabitants sprang to life. _We're going to make it,_ Abby thought, a grin spreading across her face. _We're gonna be fine -_

Or, so she thought.

Her leg buckled beneath her as her ankle twisted in a way that probably wasn't natural. The blonde cried out in pain, screaming as she toppled down with pain shooting through her leg and all over her body. The walkers were quickly advancing on her, the closet one maybe a meter and a half away, the others closely following. T-Dog whirled around, panic over his features as twenty, maybe more of the walkers came closer and closer, all heading for Abby save for a few stragglers that targeted T-Dog. "Run, T-Dog," Abby screamed, fumbling for her knife. If she used her gun, she could take most of them down – but she refused, instead bracing herself for the wrath of the small horde heading toward her.

T-Dog was conflicted – people in the prison were screaming at him to run, but the first walker fell upon Abby and soon after, the rest of them followed, crowding around her like wild animals. He heard no screaming but the woman was soon lost in the throng of bodies, T-Dog's throat thickening. "T, _hurry_,"Maggie screamed, the gates opening. More walkers headed toward the prison, so instead of risking their lives, T-Dog regretfully bolted toward the gates, leaving Abby behind.

The blonde heaved the first dead walker off of her body, ripping her knife from its skull and having almost no time before the rest of the heard was on top of her. She grunted, forcing herself upwards though her ankle screamed in protest – _you've had injuries worse than this and had to keep going,_ she told herself. _Keep going, Abby._ The woman jumped backwards, seven or eight walkers within a meter close to her. She couldn't kill them all, and she couldn't run? T-Dog, she knew, had seen her fall with the first walkers, and he'd sure as hell been unable to see her get back up. As far as the prisoners knew, Abby was walker chow.

Again, she refused to use her gun on the walkers before her.

Instead, Abigail clutched her hunting knife, continuing to walk backwards and occasionally checking her behind so no walkers got the surprise attack on her. When the first got close, she ended its life quickly, almost losing her knife in the skull as she struggled to pull it out. _This is it,_ she thought, blue eyes wide as she scanned the rotting faces before her. There were twelve of them, each struggling to get to her, to eat her flesh and gnaw on her bones. "Fuck," she breathed, heading back further up the dirt road. She glanced toward the prison, frowning at what she saw –

The gates were still open.

The woman quickly darted to her right, limping on her likely sprained ankle as she hobbled as fast as she could away from the walkers, circling around the small pack of them until she was in front of them. T-Dog's eyes bulged as he realised she was still okay and the male rushed forward to help the limping woman through the gates, his arm circling around her waist and support her waist. "Fuckin' hell," she cursed, panting as they neared the fences. As soon as they passed the iron-woven walls, T-Dog stopped and let Abby recover a moment as they closed the gates. "I ain't bit," she breathed, as if she couldn't even believe it. "They didn't fuckin' bite me."

_"Dad, she's alive!"_

Abby's head whipped up to see Carl calling out into the darkness, Rick's hunched over figure facing toward the prison. When his son's voice shot the silence, he turned around, eyes wide with fear as he glanced at Abby's tiny frame. The woman was barely holding it together, but Rick's expression brought a smile to her face. She shook T-Dog's hands off of her, walking as fast as she could manage toward the sheriff, whose face was coated in disbelief. Rick blinked once – twice – before it registered, and as soon as his thoughts could function again, the man dropped whatever it was he was holding and started running toward Abby, enveloping her in a tight hug much the same as he had when he'd seen Carl again for the first time.

Her hand wove through his hair and she could have sworn she was going to squeeze him right open with how tight she hugged him – but jeez, Rick had her locked in a vice-like grip, face buried in her dirty hair, chest rising and falling as his breathing quickened. "Takes a lot to kill me, officer, you should know that," Abby said, meaning it as a joke though her tone was flat, as if she still couldn't believe she was alive.

"I swear to God if you leave this prison again –" Rick began, but Abby just cut him off, laughing quietly.

"Don't get your panties twisted, honey," she said softly, allowing her eyes to fall closed for a moment as she gave a reassuring squeeze. "I'm not going anywhere, Rick. I promised, right? I'll always stand your ground." Rick almost snorted, because she seemed to have absolutely no idea how hollow he'd felt in those five or so minutes that he'd thought her dead – as soon as he'd seen her go down with those walkers, his heart had jumped into his throat and a queasiness came over him. His jaw dropped, he stepped away from the wide-eyed group still hoping she'd come back. And he'd just about lost the plot. But she'd gotten back up, hadn't she?

He wasn't getting rid of Abby that easily.


	6. Lord Have Mercy

**A/N: 30 reviews! AHH! Thank you all much! I love you all so much okay. This chapter's a bit slow, but toward the end, we're getting into episode FOUR of season three. (The first five chapters were more between episodes 2-3 and didn't include much action, because I want to add my own originality to the story rather than re-write the episodes.) But I hope you like this update, please remember to review!**

**Special thanks to: runawaycherry93, AllThingWeird35, TWDfan, lunasky99, shika93, Lovely Kaplan and Em for reviewing chapter five.**

**The review of the week was a tough one to choose, but it goes to lunasky99 this week! **"I love this story it's so cute! I just wanna eat them up!... wait never mind, I really shouldn't say that considering there are zombies everywhere and I'd more likely then not be shot in the face for saying it... anyways! I absolutely love Abigail and Rick's relationship! It's just so cute I also love how Carl feels about her.  
Man I can't wait til' Lori dies!... okay wait that sounded kinda messed up but... You know what I mean! stop laughing at me! xD" **This was the cutest review ever omg. I'm excited for Lori to die too lol shh. But Abby and Rick's relationship is going to progress A LOT through the next few chapters, with some realisations and some heavy-hearts. :( ENJOY the chapter!**

**Let's see if we can get this baby to 37+ reviews, yeah?! I also fixed the link to the trailer of this story, guys!**

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX:**

**LORD HAVE MERCY**

* * *

Abby had gone straight to sleep that night with an aching head and a swollen ankle. Rick had given her his cot and though part of her had wanted to beg him to crawl in with her. She wasn't sure why, but her heart was just aching – perhaps it had been the thoughts that had ran through her mind when she'd been pulled to the ground, her life flashing before her eyes. Because really, it wasn't much of a life at all, and she'd found that she couldn't actually sleep at all. The blonde was curled up in her bed on her side, her arms wrapped around her tiny body and her knees bought to her chest. She shivered, despite the fact that she was anything but cold, rugged up underneath many blankets.

In truth, Abby wasn't sure _what_ she was feeling. She'd almost died, and there was nothing but an empty hole in her chest.

Eventually, though, time passed and the sun rose over the prison, casting shadows in the cell block and slowly waking everyone who'd actually slept that night. Abby, however, lay heavy-eyed in her bunk beneath the empty cot that Rick should've been in, chest aching though not from any injuries. Her head buzzed, but she didn't shift when she heard the sounds of everyone waking around her. Instead, she started at a small, black mark on the cement wall, unblinking and unmoving. She wasn't sure how long she'd been lying like that when Herschel came to check on her, part of him wondering if Abby had perhaps been scratched and was turning. The old man cleared his throat as he walked into her cell, the blonde not moving until Herschel spoke again. "Abby, are you awake?"

The voice caught her attention and she blinked, the black spot on the wall disappearing as she rolled over to her other side, eyes widening at the sight of Herschel before she tossed her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, leaning her weight on her good ankle, running her hand through her hair. For someone who'd not slept, she was bloody wide awake. "Sorry – I was in another world," she chuckled, almost nervous sounding. "What can I do for you?"

"How are you feeling?" he asked, tilting his head to the side curiously. Abby smiled, but the light never really reached her eyes. "I know your ankle was pretty badly messed up last night."

"And you're checking that I'm not turning," Abigail added, though it was all in good heart, her tone holding no accusation at all. "I'm fine, Herschel. Just didn't get much sleep the past few days," she murmured, rubbing her hands over her face. He took a moment to survey the woman, disliking the way her sweats and tank top seemed to hang off of her figure as though they were sizes too big – and he hated the life disappearing from her smile right before her eyes. Granted, while she'd been at the farm, Abby hadn't always been happy, but there had been more of her. There had been more of her heart, her soul, and less of her damaged mind. Now, though... Herschel just saw her pain, and though many people here seemed to miss it, Herschel knew Abby like the back of his hand no matter how long she'd been gone.

"True," the old man chuckled, shaking his head bashfully. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright, Abby."

"I'm fine," she repeated, nodding her head firmly. "Promise."

The man nodded, breathing in deeply. Physically – yes, Abby was in okay condition; a little underweight and a little tired-looking, but about as good as anyone could be during the zombie apocalypse. But mentally – well, mentally, she wasn't so good. But Herschel was unsure about how to approach the subject of Abby's mentality, and Abby was sure as hell not going to bring it up herself. Herschel licked his lips, nodding his head. He didn't really know what else he could say, and found himself, for the first time in a long time, speechless. Abby swallowed thickly, feeling her throat thicken at the situation. "Are you okay, Herschel?" she asked, and he looked at her with sad eyes.

"I wonder that about you, Abby."

* * *

Somewhere after that talk with Herschel, Abby had forgotten time existed. His words weighed heavily on her and she sat on the edge of her bed, her hands clasped tightly, elbows on her knees as she stared into space. It was pathetic of her, she thought, to sit there and mope about nothing in particular while the rest of the people living in the prison made use of themselves with housework, looking after the children (and Zeus, who Abby hadn't seen in a while) and keeping the walkers under control. _Maybe I should get up,_ the blonde thought to herself, making no movement. _Maybe I should bloody do something._

"Your ankle's not getting any better," a voice said, and Abby's head shot up, her eyes meeting Rick's, though his were trained on her swollen ankle. Her eyebrows pulled together and she stood, almost trying to prove that she was still useful as she hobbled over, opening her arms for a hug. However, when Rick's hand rose to stop her coming any closer and he stepped back ever so slightly, a deep frown creased Abby's face.

"What's wrong, officer Friendly?" the blonde asked, folding her hands over her chest. She cocked her head, concern on her features. Rick's lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but had no idea _what_ to say. Abby licked her lips nervously, her eyes wide as she tried to figure out what was going on with the man before her. "Rick, come on..." she murmured, her fingers curling her hand into a nervous fist that sat against her chest.

"Why didn't you use your gun out there last night, Abby?"

The question caught her off-guard, and the woman stepped back, her leg almost buckling beneath her as she stepped on the wrong ankle. "What?"

"Last night, when you were out there gettin' attacked by those walkers, why didn't you use your gun?" Rick asked again, talking to her as though she was a toddler who'd committed a crime. His voice was firm, like the woman had committed an unspeakable crime.

"That's a stupid question," Abby spat, shaking her head. "I wasn't thinking straight, I didn't know what I was doing." His question made her antsy and uncomfortable, but she said nothing more than her angry words, refusing to look at the man. Rick stepped forward, his jaw tightening. In return to this gesture, Abby stepped back again, wide eyes meeting Rick's again.

"Why didn't you use your gun?" he asked again, slowly and deliberately.

"Don't talk to me like I'm a damn toddler, Rick Grimes!" Abby half-shouted, lips pulling back into an angry grimace. "I'm not your responsibility, what does it matter if I didn't use my gun, huh?" she demanded, unsure why she was getting so angry over something so small. Her motives for not saving her own skin were, really, in good heart. She'd meant well, but hadn't realised that this small action would cause so much stir inside of Rick. It made her angry that she'd made him angry, and the whole thing continued around in a pathetic circle. "Don't you look at me like that," she snapped, and he practically growled in response.

"Tell me why, Abby."

"Because I didn't haul my ass out of your damned car, lead those walkers away for everyone's safety only to bring them back!" she yelled, chin trembling before her voice lowered to a whisper. "Because you are so much more important than me and saving my life meant nothing if it might end yours, Rick. So don't talk to me like I'm some messed up, angry person. I'm fine, alright?" Maybe she'd overreacted – maybe she was tired, and angry, and hollow as all hell and everything that she'd just claimed not to be. The truth was, Abby was sad, and no matter how alone or how surrounded by people she was, that feeling was just refusing to go away. She swallowed, fingers digging into her forearm flesh, arms still cross over her chest. A guilty feeling washed over her, but she willed it away and kept her narrowed eyes on Rick.

Rick, who said nothing, but just stared at the woman before her as though she was a stranger, eyes wide and hands shaking at his sides. "You should have used your gun-" he started, and Abby snorted.

"So you would have used it if that was you out there dyin'?" she demanded, raising her eyebrows. "You would have fired shot after shot with a herd close by with Carl in the prison – with _Lori_ in the prison?"

"Lori ain't my concern right now, _you_ are my concern!"

"The hell I am!" Abby countered, her neck turning red slowly with anger. "I am not your pregnant wife, Rick, and I don't give a damn about how safe it is in these cell blocks for Lori, but I'm not anybody's first priority – not Herschel's, not T-Dog's, and sure as hell not yours."

"You're here because of me! I need to keep you safe, Abby, you're the last thing I got-"

He fell silent, and Abby blinked a few times, her mouth falling open at Rick's little slip up. The blonde was certainly not accustomed to having somebody watching her back or being able to trust her group leader – in fact, in Woodbury, she'd experienced the exact opposite of the care that Rick was giving her now. The Governor – Philip – had been kind at first. But time passed, and Abby wanted what Philip refused to give her: her freedom. The ruler didn't like this, it angered him. And so began the slow process of Abby losing her sanity as well as her ability to care about what happened to her or those around her.

The prison group, however, was an apparent exception to this.

Had she come across Rick and his group before winter, she'd have never led that walker herd away. She'd have left Rick long ago; she wouldn't have saved her skin or anyone else's. And now? Now, she was fighting to keep her feelings underneath layers of what needed to be done, and she was sure as hell failing to do that. Rick breathed in heavily, eyes scanning Abby's face for any sign of emotion, finding nothing. "What happened to you out there, Abby?" he asked quietly, expression stony. She was an entirely different woman, switching between who she was on the force and what she'd been post apocalypse. Rick had seen so many – too many – different sides of her, and they were stressing him out, making his heart thud in his ears. He couldn't figure out if she was hot or cold, yes or no. Was she with him, or against him? Did she truly want to be here?

"That's none of your business, Grimes," the blonde replied shakily. "I told you, that is in the past for a reason, and it ain't coming out."

"Abby-"

_"Enough_ Rick!" she snapped, shaking her head. "If you want me to leave because I'm not telling you enough, I'll happily walk out those gates. But just stop trying to make me feel better with all this 'caring' bullshit, because you and I both know you've got other priorities, ones that ain't ex-partners who stumbled across your little safe-place and decided to stay. Like I said, Rick, I've got your back. But I don't expect you to have mine, and that's just the way it is, alright?"

She wasn't sure _why_ she was saying what she was saying – perhaps there was an inability to believe that Rick genuinely cared for her safety anymore. Just like before the end of the world, Rick had safety and closure – he had Lori and Carl and a baby on the way. He had his friends, people who cared for him, a job to do. And, just like before the shit struck the fan, Abby didn't have a starring role in Rick Grimes's life, and she never would. Because despite the dead walking, things hadn't changed as much as everyone thought they had. Rick was still the same married man, and Abigail McCann was still the same doe-eyed girl who looked up to him like he was hers, only now, she was a little sadder.

It was just the way things were.

* * *

Rick had left after that little speech of Abby's, and the blonde had been glad – there was too much weighing on her that she wanted to say, too many words hovering over her, wanting to come out and ruin everything she had here. She'd dressed herself as best as she could, walking on her wounded ankle though most everyone she'd passed had protested. Carol scolded her, saying something about 'only making it worse', and even Carl rolled his eyes at the blonde hobbling around. No matter – she'd only get used to the pain, and after a few small errands and walks around the grounds, the limp was Abby's only sign of injury. She couldn't even feel the pain anymore.

Around late morning, the woman headed out to where Carol, Rick, Daryl and T-Dog were hovering around the front gates, eyes narrowing as she noticed two figures standing outside of the gates. Not walkers – people. It was Oscar and Axel on the other side of the gates, the deadlock falling from Daryl's hands as he turned and walked back toward Rick, T-Dog, Carol, Maggie and Glenn, all of which seemed to be in a heated argument. Maggie stood with her arms crossed over her stomach but didn't say much as far as Abby heard as she approached.

"You should be resting," T-Dog chastised the woman approaching, his eyes flickering down to her injured and still swollen ankle, which she'd barely managed to fit a boot over. Her legs were bare, upper thighs clad in tight denim cut-off shorts, her wife beater hanging from her slim figure.

"Don't tell my mama," she retorted sarcastically, rolling her eyes. She avoided Rick's eye as she approached the group, tilting her head to the side. "They're leaving?" she asked, glancing over at the two jump-suit clad man standing still at the side of the gate. T-Dog nodded before returning to his conversation with Rick. The group seemed totally set on letting the strangers walk away – aside from T-Dog, who Abby was siding with. She licked her lips, frowning as she parted her lips to speak. "I can't believe you're all actually petitioning to send them away," she murmured, shuffling. "If you three guys hadn't bought me back, lord knows I'd be gone by now. I'd have walked straight back into that herd, and that's what they're gonna do. Worst case scenario, they bring the fleshes back here with 'em while they're running."

"Let them take their chances out on the road, just like we did," Daryl shrugged, a grubby hand gesturing toward the main roads. Abby's mouth fell open.

"You think this is a game of tit-for-tat, Daryl?" she demanded, ecstatic. "You all think that they can't learn to be part of this group, that they can't learn to kill walkers like we all did when this shit first happened? Or don't they deserve as much as a chance to survive as anybody else? I have seen men worse than these two petty criminals, and it's not pretty."

"Oh, we finally get to hear 'bout your old friend 'Philip'?" Daryl asked, his eyes widening. The woman's arguments had pissed him off – she knew nothing, and she'd only been in this group less than a fortnight. Less than a week, if you counted all her sleeping time. Sure, she'd done all she could in helping them lead the walkers away from the prison and she'd pulled her weight, but she hadn't seen the things that they had seen, and it certainly wasn't her place to invite a couple of petty criminals inside their doors, inviting them to sleep beside the people they'd known since the very beginning.

Before Abby could respond to his sneered words, Rick intervened.

"We've been through too much to let them back in here," he said, telling the story of a boy who'd shot his girlfriend, gotten out because he suckered the jury into thinking he was innocent, then shot another girl just a mere two weeks later. Abby recalled that case, the one her and Rick had spent hours slaving over paperwork for. She swallowed the thick lump in her throat, staying silent. "Our deal with them stands," the sheriff said, final in his words before he stalked off, the rest of the group following closely behind. Abby chewed on her lip and T-Dog said nothing as the rest of them walked away, leaving the two friends standing behind the car barriers with two lives resting heavily on their shoulders.

The rest continued their processes of moving the dead bodies that littered their safe-place.

"We'll get the prisoners a week's worth of supply for the road," Rick told Abby and T-Dog once they'd caught up, and T-Dog made a snappy retort about how they mightn't even last a week. The conversations made Abby uncomfortable, for she had nothing to say other than – she'd been alone, too – a stranger. And they'd bought her into this prison despite the fact that they didn't know anything about her. What else could they have done? Learning a person's situation was key.

Learning Abby's wasn't needed, Rick already knew most of it.

She'd gotten lucky. Had Rick not been there, they might have executed her like they were about to do to those prisoners. And she still wasn't sure why her chest was aching so much, why she was in so much pain over two strangers and a sprained ankle. "Abby, you need to be resting, not moving dead bodies-"

"With Herschel barely able to move, Rick, I think I need to be out here helping. You need manpower."

Her tone was final, and Rick sighed as she got into a car with Carol behind the wheel. The woman backed the car up, following T-Dog's lead. Abby looked around, watching the prison past before her eyes landed on Herschel, Lori, Carl and Beth. Herschel was hobbling around on his crutches like he had this morning upon coming into Abby's cell, but now, he seemed a lot more stable. She watched Lori closely, the woman's eyes landing on Rick as the brunette gave a bashful smile. Abby's heart thudded, noticing the way the two looked like high-schoolers again, and a lump rose in her throat. She looked away, catching movement behind Carl. With that, her heart sank lower than it ever could upon looking at Rick with his wife.

"Carl, look out! _Walkers_!"


	7. Dead End

**A/N: So we didn't reach 37+ reviews in a week but never mind! Thanks everyone for your support and I'm really happy with this story. The last chapter was kind of 'eeh' but I'm pleased with this one even if it is heartbreaking. :( Please keep reviewing, your support means the world to me!**

**Thanks to lunasky99, shika93, Lovely Kaplan, wolfismyhero and AllThingWeird35 for reviewing!**

**Review of the week goes to ~ wolfismyhero. **"Abby is seriously the coolest OC ever! I'm usually one for Daryl/OC fanfics, but you've got me hooked on this one. I love the interactions between Abby and Rick. They're always leaving me guessing. I can't wait to read more!"** THANK YOU ILY OMGFGHFDV.**

**Lovely Kaplan: **I have so much planned for going into Abby's backstory, so I can't wait for more touches on Woodbury omg. And, in my opinion, Rick is in his early thirties so Abby's in her late twenties. She didn't know Rick in highschool or anything, but they became really good friends when she joined the force (A couple of years after Rick did at most) and I'd say this was when Carl was about two or three, so he'd have grown up with not only Shane (who was there before Carl was born) but with Abby as well!

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN:**

**DEAD END**

* * *

_"Carl, look out! Walkers!"_

As soon as the words left her lips, panic set out across the prison. Abby glanced around the outside of the C-block, eyes wide as she looked for any way to defend herself, Carol, Lori, Herschel and the kids against what was coming – and they had nowhere to run but inside. There were too many walkers, too many limping, growling figures heading toward them. Clumsily, the blonde reached for her knife from the sheath that never seemed to leave her belt, limping slightly though she forced herself to move as fast as she could, wounded ankle or not.

Carl and Lori began shooting and the walkers, T-Dog trying to dart around to the gate that had allowed the walkers to move in on them. Maggie grabbed Lori and Carl while Beth and Herschel moved to safety, leaving Abby, T-Dog and Carol in the courtyard to defend the camp. T-Dog ran to the fence, intent on locking it though he wasn't watching his back. When Abby saw the blue shirted walker heading toward her friend, she took off toward the creature, grabbing it in a headlock with her arm around its throat just in time, jerking its head away from T-Dog before she buried her knife deep in its skull. The male turned with his eyes wide, opening his mouth to thank Abby before they were interrupted by Carol screaming for them to run and follow her.

"You two go," Abby yelled, seeing Rick, Glenn and Daryl throwing open the gate to the courtyard. "I need to help them. T-Dog, watch your own back, _please._" The blonde gave a nod and a small smile to show them she'd be okay, then turned to head in the opposite direction toward where Beth and Herschel were behind one of the steel cages around the doors to the cell blocks, Beth looking frantic. "Beth, I need a gun!" Abby called to the other blonde, who peeked open the gate quickly and handed Abby her own firearm, the woman ditching her knife for a more effective method – despite her distaste for the noise the guns made, they sure as hell weren't going to be able to knife all these dead.

As Rick, Daryl and Glenn joined her in the courtyard, the blonde fired off a few rounds, taking down six of the closest walkers. Glenn joined in with a machete, Daryl with his crossbow and Rick with his Python. The Asian male quickly checked the gates, realising that it might be impossible to seal the other one that was allowing the stream of walkers through. "Where is everyone?" Rick demanded, Herschel pointing over to C-Block.

"Maggie led Lori and Carl into C block," Herschel supplied. Abby appeared at Rick's side, fiddling with her gun.

"I didn't see where T-Dog and Carol went, I think it was into one of the cell-blocks we haven't cleared yet," she panted, eyes wide with fear. Glenn secured the gate with his belt to stop any other walkers coming through, and the rest of them continued the slaughter of the un-dead in the courtyard. When Abby ran out of bullets, she cursed loudly and fumbled for her knife, realising she'd have to get closer than she'd like when there were so many walkers – but of course, she'd had more than her fair share of close encounters with those who wanted to eat her brains out. When the courtyard was finally clear, the four of them met up in the centre. "You think they did it?" Abby asked, seeing Rick's eyes flicker to Axel and Oscar, walking nervously through the gate to the area. He looked about ready to shoot them, which made Abby's hands shake.

"Who else?" the man spat, Abby swallowing thickly at the malice in his words. Just as Rick made the move to go talk to the two men, the prison alarm rang out through the air, making the blonde jump, her heart thudding in her chest. _What the fuck was going on?_ Each of them drew their guns, leaving Abby standing there without ammo as they fired at the speaker systems outside of the prison. The alarm, however, still fired from the inside. Axel and Oscar met with the group, Oscar nervously explaining the situation though Abby wasn't listening. Her mind had gone numb and now, she was just following everyone else's movements, terrified and scared. _Hold it together,_ a voice inside of her scolded. _Don't be weak._

_Hold it together._

_Don't be weak._

She shuddered, blue eyes meeting Daryl's own narrowed gaze as though he was trying to figure out what was wrong with her. Instead of saying anything, however, the man gave her a nod. Rick grabbed Oscar by his shirt, shoving him forward and demanding to be taken to wherever the source of the power was. As if he had a choice, really. Abby followed willingly, killing where she needed to and saying nothing. It was like her voice box had been destroyed, or her mind had been taken over by a disease just as bad as the one that turned people into literal zombies. Rick moved ahead, screaming for Lori and Carl. "We'll split up and look for the others," Rick ordered. "Whoever gets to the generators first, shut them down!"

Nobody really noticed Abby moving (or rather, limping) off on her own which, on her side, was a terrible idea. But having somebody beside her would only slow her down, and Abby needed to shut down those generators. She knew what this noise would do and keeping it going would cause more damage – let the others scout for the lost members; she would shut the generators down and let them look. As the blonde moved away from the group splitting up, she heard nobody question her disappearance, which was better than having them look for her. The darkened corridors terrified her, but the blonde remained vigilant with her large knife in her hand.

Following signs and a small map that she'd seen on the way, Abby soon found herself nearing the generator room. Six or so walkers remained in the hallway that led straight to the door and there was a bunch of them following her, she knew that. Cussing, the blonde peeked from behind the wall to assess the situation, deciding that going in head-on was a stupid decision. With a plan forming in mind, the woman gave a low whistle to attract their attention; attacking when she saw the first walker before moving back and allowing herself space to move. The second was close behind the first, but she had the few ample seconds she needed to pull the knife from the first's skull and sink it into the second's. When the third got too close and she was unable to free her knife from the skull of the second kill, she kicked out with her good ankle, leaning her weight as much as she could on the one she'd twisted, and made contact with the third walker's knee to send him sprawling.

His clammy hands clawed the air to reach her, but finally, with a sickening crunch, the woman's knife came free and she managed the third walker with ease. When the last three had made their way into the wider corridor, each following the last, Abby almost groaned. She just couldn't get a break, could she? The woman huffed in annoyance, the fear spreading through and turning to adrenaline that coursed through her veins. Abigail drove her knife through the jaw of the first of the three walkers, driving the other two backwards with the now-dead body in her hands. She pushed with all her might, the second walker falling and the third proving to be more of a challenge.

When Abby pulled her knife from the head of the first, the last walker stepped over the second in an attempt to get to the blonde. She quickly put the third down, then used her boot to crush the head of the second, turning the head almost to mush before she pressed on forward to the generator room at the end of the corridor. Without thinking, the woman barged into the room, turning and closing the door without locking it, her mind only set on turning the alarms off. What she wasn't expecting was one of the prisoners – Andrew – to jump her, hooking an arm around her throat and holding her close to him. "It's sure nice to see you, Blondie," the male crooned, smirking. "And with no company – not what I was expecting at all."

"They're on their way," Abby snapped, struggling though when she did, Andrew's grip only tightened around her neck. He didn't believe her for a second – her tone wavered and she was shaking beneath his grip, breathing harsh. This was too much for her – it was like she was re-living her days in Woodbury – the day's she'd never told anybody about. She swallowed, feeling tears prick at her eyes at both the pressure on her jugular and the memories cutting at her thoughts. _Too much,_ her mind screamed at her.

_Too much, too much, too much._

_Shut up!_

The blonde woman let out a sob, and this seemed to further encourage her captor. Andrew laughed in her ear, loud and far too confident for a man in his position. With his arm still around her neck, the man pressed Abby against the wall, grinning as he teased her with his hands roaming her tiny body. "Get off of me!" Abby shrieked, not caring if she bought walkers to the room. "Don't fucking touch me!"

The more she struggled, the more Andrew tortured her.

"You're just a filthy skank," he snapped, yanking at the blonde's hair. "No man would touch you, I certainly don't want to." His lips pressed to her pulse point beneath her jaw, a laugh leaving his throat. "I'm going to slice you from your cunt to your gut and leave you out to dry for your precious sheriff to see, baby," he crooned, running his hand over her thigh. Her cheek was pressed to the wall and she'd dropped her knife somewhere in the struggle, so Abby getting out was far from possible – instead of struggling more, she stiffened and said nothing, clenching her jaw to avoid the string of curses she was close to spitting.

"You're going to kill me and think Rick will let you live?" she asked calmly, giving her own masochistic laugh. "He'll feed you to the walkers one fucking limb at a time."

"I think you overestimate your sheriff," the male replied softly, amused with her threat.

"If anything, Andrew, you underestimate him. He's a kind man, but cross him just once and see where it gets you, I dare you."

As if this was an invitation, Andrew laughed, releasing his arm and stepping back. Just as Abby turned around, ready to lunge, the male punched her hard in the nose and immediately, the blonde felt blood as she staggered back. Glancing around, she saw her knife on the floor and made a dive for it. It had been years since she'd worked on her defence strategies and she was rusty, but she dive-rolled toward the knife and landed in a crouched position, ready for Andrew to strike first.

She wasn't counting on him having an axe.

Just as he swung at her, the woman rolled out of the way and the axe connected almost with Rick's head, going straight into the machinery beside them.

Wait – Rick?

The sheriff grabbed the handle of the weapon and Andrew charged at him, shoving Rick into the wall as the two of them fumbled desperately for the wooden axe. Abby stood quickly, reaching for her knife though she couldn't work her way in to the struggle between the two men. If she tried, she might end up stabbing Rick, and that was the last thing she was aiming to do. When Andrew rolled off of Rick and grabbed the discarded axe, that was her time to act. She lunged at him, knocking the axe from his grip and hooking her elbow around his throat like he had done to her just moments before. She pressed the knife into his back, mid-spine where she knew would do some painful damage.

Oscar picked up Rick's gun and pointed it straight at the three of them, Rick standing before Abby and Andrew with wide eyes. he held his hand out in a plea for the male to give him the gun, but Andrew had other ideas. "Shoot him!" he demanded. "We can take back this prison. There was a moment of silence before the gun moved from Rick to Andrew, a shot ringing through the air and a warm substance coating Abby's face. Andrew's body fell limp before her, and the woman panicked and tugged her t-shirt off to wipe the blood from her features, leaving her in her wife-beater. Rick nodded to Oscar as the larger male handed the gun back before he moved to turn the generators off. "Let's go."

* * *

Abby remained silent on their walk through the corridors back to the courtyard, only speaking when they saw the remains of one of their group on the floor, still being munched on by two walkers. Abby froze, recognizing the clothing on the body before she saw the face. Everyone remained silent, but Abby couldn't take her eyes off the body. T-Dog's body.

The blonde's hand rose to her mouth and she drew in a breath, feeling her whole body shake. She'd really liked T-Dog, and found that he was a good friend when they'd spent those days on the road together. But now – well, now, he was a pile of torn skin and bones stripped of flesh. She stared, unable to move even when Rick and the others made a move. "Not T-Dog," Abby murmured when Glenn's hand found her shoulder. She shook her head, stepping back. Daryl held Carol's headscarf in his hand and for a moment, time seemed to stop.

"Come on, Abby, we gotta move," Glenn said softly, and the woman just about told him to leave her there. But instead, she squared her shoulders and nodded, heading off after the others. They jogged, but she kept her pace at a slow walk, scared of the verdict that they'd reach once outside the dimmed halls. The pain ricocheted through her leg, but she ignored it and kept walking, a slight limp still in her step. She didn't care that she was doing more damage than good to her ankle – living with pain was what she had to do these days, whether it was physical or in her mind.

"You didn't find them?" Herschel asked as the group of five approached, Oscar trailing behind with Abby. Glenn shook his head.

"We thought they might have come back out here," he replied, Beth shaking her head with wide eyes. The terror on her face was obvious, and Abby almost wanted to console the girl as she approached. Instead, she said nothing and focused on keeping her mouth shut.

"What about T-Dog?" Herschel asked. "And Carol?"

_Bodies like the rest of them._

"They didn't make it," Daryl supplied hoarsely.

"That doesn't mean the others didn't! We're going back," Rick ordered, and Abby felt her heart drop. She felt weak – again – and useless, but she'd follow Rick to the end of the world. Literally. "Daryl and Glenn, you go with-"

He was cut off by the distinct cry from a baby, turning with his eyes wide to see Maggie and Carl exiting the building. Everyone seemed to freeze completely, then. Maggie looked like she might start bawling, her breaths coming weakly and her face pale. The girl's bottom lip trembled and Rick didn't seem to know what to do with his self as he figured out what had happened. Carl stood motionless and stared at the ground, and nobody dared to move when Rick gave up on standing.

His whole world had been torn from his grasp, and nobody could say a damn thing about it.


End file.
